


Breaking Free

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e08 The Well, F/M, Fluff, mild crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant wonders if Bruce Banner ever has this problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Free

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The volume of Simmons’ voice and the angle from which it comes means that it's her ass pressed into his hip.

The anger he’s been feeling ever since he touched that damn staff is - well, it’s not _gone_ , but it’s moving in a different, decidedly less angry direction. Still just as strong though. _Definitely_ just as strong. (He wonders if Bruce Banner ever has this problem.)

He’s disappointed to see she’s fully dressed - sort of. She’s wearing some sort of cover-alls that shimmer in the light. Which is just way too much clothing, by his calculations.

He reaches for her - or tries to, his arms kind of get stuck before they can get anywhere. He’s _chained to the wall_. She’s got him on a couch in the lounge, chained to one of the support beams. And then he remembers that she shot him with Fitz’s prototype gun. The memory should bring back his rage in full force but instead he’s picturing Simmons with less terribly named weaponry and it turns out to be an extremely appealing thought.

“Those,” she says, pointing to the cuffs with a tablet pen, “are Fitz’s latest creation. He’s certain they can hold Captain Rogers and is very put out that he can’t test to see if they can hold Thor. So you’ll have at least some trouble getting out of them. Personally, I recommend picking the lock, that way you don’t run the risk of warping the metal so badly you have to be cut out if it turns out they can hold a berserker.”

She stands and he gets the barest hint of what the curve of her ass feels like. It’s not enough and he has to resist the urge to use his legs to pull her back down. Which he is completely capable of doing. He can subdue an assailant with three-quarters of his limbs incapacitated. (Not _well_ , but he can get it done.)

“Also, I kind of need you to escape from them within the next five minutes.” She says this a little breathlessly, like she’s confessing a secret.

“Why?” he asks and hopes she’ll chalk his low tone up to the rage and not the other thing. (He is really glad he’s wearing one of his tighter pairs of jeans today.)

She hesitates and her teeth come out to worry her bottom lip. The cuffs rattle, digging into his wrists. The pain brings back some of the rage, enough to stop him from pulling her down on top of him.

“ _Why?_ ” he grinds out.

“The others have all been mildly … kidnapped by the extremists. They somehow found out about Professor Randolph and now they want to perform a classic human - or in this case Asgardian - sacrifice to prove they’re more godly than he is. I’m going to use Fitz’s invisible skin prototype to sneak over and free the others, but seeing as this is just a prototype, there’s a decent chance I’ll be caught. I’ll need you to rescue us all should that occur.”

“ _Simmons_ ,” Grant says as she walks away. He should've grabbed her when he had the chance.

“It’s all right,” she says, forced cheerful, “they’re only about a hundred yards from the Bus. Didn’t want to risk anyone escaping their untimely death during transport, I guess.” She gestures to the cuffs. “Hurry on, now. Haven’t got all day.”

“Just let me go and we’ll figure out a plan that might _actually work!_ ” He means it to be a nice, reasonable request but it comes out as a yell. The look she gives him clearly questions just how rational he can be right now. 

He breathes. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. It does absolutely nothing to calm him down. 

He decides to try a different tactic. 

He looks at Simmons, imagines her without the stupid invisible skin suit. Then he pulls up the memories of catching her out of the air, the way her whole body wrapped tight around his. The rage obediently turns to lust. And lust, he can handle.

“You got surveillance footage on that thing?” he asks with a nod to the tablet she’s still holding. 

She nods tentatively. Obviously she doesn’t want to go out there alone any more than he wants her to. He shimmies up into a sitting position as best he can. His shoulders ache but now he’s not a constant visual reminder of why she decided this was her best option.

He gestures her over with a twist of his head. “Lemme see. If I can’t figure out a better plan in five minutes, you can go with yours.”

She must _really_ not want to go out there because she forgets her own estimate of how long it’ll take him to break free. 

She sits right up against his thigh so he can look over her shoulder while she shows him the recording of the extremists’ invasion of the Bus as well as the footage of what’s going on outside. Simmons wasn’t kidding. Those wackos are building a legit altar out there to fry Randolph on. Or spill his blood over. They’re fighting about which right now.

She’s so absorbed in relating everything he missed and worrying about the others - currently tied up alongside Randolph in the dirt - that she doesn’t notice when he leans forward for a better view. Even in the suit, her heat bleeds through his thin shirt. He reaches around her other side to curl gentle fingers around her waist. 

He almost has to laugh. She’s still as unaware as she was their first day on the Bus. 

“They seem to be moving around a lot, people coming and going. I don’t see how we’ll stop them all.”

“We just need to stop the ones that are here,” he points out and rests his chin on her shoulder.

“What if we-” She turns her head towards him. “ _Oh_.”

Trading lust for rage may make some things easier to control, but he’s still hypercharged and there’s only so much restraint he has left. He kisses her. It’s nothing but a quick peck on the lips - all right, maybe not _quick_ and his hand on her hip trails dangerously close to squeezing her ass - but it’s enough to take her breath away.

“ _You_ are going to get out of that ridiculous suit while I go out there and stop the bad guys. Don’t worry,” he says as he slides around her to get off the couch, “if the sonic staff can’t knock them out, it should still be able to slow them down. By the time you’re out of that thing I’ll have cleared a path for you to the others and you can cut the ropes holding them. Sound good?”

He stops at the stairs to look back at her. She’s still on the couch, one hand half-lifted to her lips.

“Simmons?”

“Yes! What! Right!” She nods hurriedly to hide her slip up. “Got it. Out of the suit, cut the others free.”

“For that you’ll need a knife.”

“Yes, I imagine so.” She manages to sound at least a little irritated by the reminder so he takes it to mean she’s recovered enough to follow his instructions.

He heads down the stairs to gather weapons for the coming fight. The sooner he stops these idiots, the sooner he can get back on the Bus and see if Simmons is as easily convinced to take the rest of her clothes off.


End file.
